


Catch and Chase

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka), TightAssets



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Male Hawke/Female Lavellan, Background Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Digital Art, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Lavellan is inquisitor, Mutual Pining, Nudity, Partial Nudity, Post-Coital, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Varric Tethras Is So Done, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TightAssets/pseuds/TightAssets
Summary: Varric Tethras may have gotten Maria Cadash into bed, but that doesn't mean she's developed feelings.It's just a fling, right?
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Catch and Chase

**Author's Note:**

> This is a submission for the [Cozy Autumn Prompts](https://cozy-autumn-prompts.tumblr.com/) event, brainchild of the lovely [SchaRoux](https://scharoux.tumblr.com/). Thank you for the amazing prompts! [TightAssets](https://tightassets.tumblr.com/) and I submit the following art (belonging to her talented hands) and fic (my doing) for prompt #3: Sharing a Blanket.

Maria Cadash could not pinpoint where, exactly, she’d lost her _damn_ mind. 

Had it been after the second round of cards? When Varric flung the angel of death down with a flourish, and she turned over her winning hand expecting to see crestfallen defeat?

Instead, she’d been delighted by the wicked humor and growing heat in his features.

Maybe she’d lost her head when he insisted on buying her the next drink, his lip curling up in amusement when she admitted she’d been drinking apple cider instead of ale. 

She could _still_ hear his playful jibes at her dwarven heritage when he returned. 

Of course, she insisted he taste it, and he wrapped his lips around the rim of the tankard in a way that made her stomach flip. She told him it was better when it was warm. He smirked and said lots of things were better hot. 

But if she was going to be honest, with herself at least, she had wanted him since the first time he stepped out of the snow in Haven complaining he was going to freeze his damn chest hair off. 

And now here she was, naked in his bed, his broad hand brushing thoughtfully up and down her spine. 

Maybe he was trying to pinpoint what exactly happened to bring them here too.

She should go. This was a mistake born of lust, boredom, and more than a little loneliness. It couldn’t last, and it _shouldn’t_. He was Guild through and through, and probably one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole rotten pile. She was Carta, and if her grandmother found out she’d fallen into bed with a _deshyr_... Maria didn’t know who’d be in bigger danger, Varric or herself. 

So. Leaving. That was a thing she _needed_ to do, but the soft brush of his hand was so nice and she was so cozy tucked up against his warm skin. When she breathed in, all she smelled was parchment, ink, and cedar. Her hand was thrown carelessly over his stomach, the hard muscles beneath her palm a delicious promise.

She could stay for round two. Or the night, even. Who would find out? And really who would _care_ about their fling? 

It was just a fling, right? 

Like he sensed the turn of her thoughts, Varric’s palm pressed her closer to his body. He turned his head to drop a soft kiss to her frazzled crimson hair. Maria’s heart dipped and throbbed painfully in her chest. 

“I don’t know about you, Princess, but I wouldn’t mind something to eat.” 

The teasing innuendo came to her tongue so easily it frightened her. “You didn’t get enough of a taste?” 

Varric huffed his charming laugh into her hair. “Wouldn’t mind a second one if you’re up for it.” 

That whispered promise made something else throb with sudden need, a monster inside her not quite sated by all the attention he’d already showered her with. Her response was instinctual. “In that case, we should raid the kitchens like the scoundrels we are.” 

Varric’s hand drifted lower to pat the naked curve of her ass affectionately. “I knew you’d be up for some light ransacking.” 

“What can I say?” She peeled herself away from his skin with one last, firm stroke of her palm over the soft, thick hair of his chest. “I’m always down to loot.” 

Her clothes were all over the damn room, but so were his. She retrieved the red silk shirt first, balling it in her fist and tossing it back to the bed. Varric caught it with effortless skill, not even bothering to look away from her. 

And well… since he was looking, she made sure to neatly bend at the waist and wiggle just a bit more than necessary as she retrieved her own shirt from beneath his desk before she sighed theatrically. “Shame. I’ll have to put pants on.” 

A second of silence. Then the rustle of Varric’s body moving from the bed, the creak of a trunk opening, and his voice rumbling like sin itself. “Catch.” 

She twisted just in time to snatch a second silk shirt tossed in her direction. It wasn’t the ruby color she usually associated with him, but the color of the sky itself on a clear day. She examined it closely, looking for the tell-tell gaudy embroidery, before raising an eyebrow. “Bit plain for one of your shirts.” 

“It was a gift from someone _trying_ to tell me to dress less ostentatiously.” 

Maria pointedly swept her eyes down his displayed chest, lingering one moment between the solid bulk of his thighs before flicking them back up. “Glad to see you didn’t get the memo.” 

“It wasn’t my color.” Varric answered smoothly. “But it’s probably yours.” 

She always looked good in blue, and even though he’d never worn it, that alluring scent of his clung to the fabric. She shrugged like she could care less, slipping it over her shoulders. Varric pulled his breeches up and laced them closed while she buttoned up a few of the delicate silver enclosures on her borrowed shirt. 

To be fair, it was _officially_ stolen now, even if Varric didn’t know. She wasn’t gonna throw a pretty silk get-up like this back in his trunk where he wasn’t even gonna wear it. Finders keepers. 

“I’ll tell you what, beautiful.” Varric crossed the room silently, letting his heated eyes trace her curves. “How about you and that shirt crawl back into bed and I’ll bring you whatever you want from the kitchens?” 

“I’m already up now.” She huffed. It didn’t stop her from leaning into his touch when his broad, rough hands followed the path his eyes took before lingering in the dip of her waist. 

“I’m thinking round two is gonna happen. And I’m not willing to risk us getting sidetracked by nosy guards, Cole’s shenanigans, or walking into Sera’s pranks. You know this is when she likes to set them.” 

Maria widened her eyes innocently. “You’re telling me you’re too old to avoid the guards, a weird spirit, and some traps?” 

“Very clever traps, Princess.” Varric cautioned. “I can’t even figure out how she does it half the time.” 

Maria smirked, leaning into Varric, pressing her chest to his. He hadn’t bothered to do up any of the buttons on his shirt, and it was very tempting to let herself get lost in the glorious sight of him. 

But what was the fun in that?

“Well, in that case…” Maria traced her fingers up the hard planes of his chest, scratching her blunt nails through the hair he flaunted so shamelessly. “Maybe _I_ should go.” 

“Maybe _we_ should just go back to bed.” Varric growled in her ear, fingers tightening in the fabric at her waist. 

“Maybe…” Maria trailed off, running her nose over his stubbled jaw line, following it with her lips. She peppered a trail of kiss up to his ear, breath ghosting over it lightly and making him shiver against her. “Or maybe you should catch me.” 

Before he could react, she twisted out of his grip and booked it for the door. She flung it open just in time to hear his laughter follow her into the dark hallway. 

The quickest way to the kitchens was a straight shot through the garden, but she’d have to avoid more guards that way. Not usually an issue when she could just bat her eyes and waltz past every gangly kid in Skyhold. 

But she wasn’t wearing pants, which technically made things _slightly_ more complicated. 

So avoiding the guards was a must, which meant ducking into another dark hallway and sprinting through the shadows of the battlements. She burst through a door leading into the body of the castle and ducked into another before the guard on duty in the room could even turn to look at her entrance and speedy exit. 

Her bare feet barely touched the cool stone stairs as she flew down them and around the tight corners, into the blackness below. One hand on the left wall guided her through the shadowed room and into a hallway with one torch burning, the kitchen at the far end still glowing with light from a cooking fire that was never fully extinguished. 

She barely slipped through the door before one solid arm twisted around her waist and hauled her flush to his chest. She yelped in surprise, the sound captured easily by wind chapped lips the same way a broad hand caught the fist she was aiming towards his jaw.

“Careful, beautiful.” Varric murmured, pulling away to ghost the words over her skin. “I show up with a black eye tomorrow, people are gonna have questions.” 

“You deserve it for cheating.” Maria pressed herself eagerly back to his chest, ghosting her lips over his jaw. 

“Like you cheated at cards?” 

“Like you _weren’t_.” 

His hand pressed tight on the small of her back, his lips tipping up into an unabashed grin. “I _always_ cheat.” 

Didn’t they all? 

“You get drinks, I’ll raid the larder, and we’ll retreat back to your room for a rematch?” 

Varric released his hold on her somewhat reluctantly, his hand lingering just a moment too long. “Nothing that tastes like despair if you can manage it.” 

“I swear to stay ten feet away from anything even remotely Orlesian.” She swore with studied seriousness before slipping out of the warmth of his space and retreating to the shadows of the kitchen, ducking into the larder. 

She shivered in the cooler space, eyeing the shelves speculatively. Smoked sausages were stacked next to wheels of cheese, fruits from all corners of Thedas tumbling haphazardly in the corners. She grabbed a tray and started plucking off bits and pieces of what she fancied. 

In the kitchen proper something clanked and rattled. She swore she heard Varric _humming_. 

And she shouldn’t find that endearing. In fact, she didn’t. Not even a little bit. 

She picked up a tiny jar of honey and two apples to complete her tray, but decided to poke her nose into a couple sacks out of curiosity. There was also some suspicious looking ham on the top shelf that she couldn’t resist tasting, even though it required her climbing up the lower two to reach it.

Her effort was wasted. Despair was a _polite_ way to describe that ham. She gagged and jumped back down, snatching her tray up off the table and sauntering back into the kitchen. 

Varric had his back to her, tasting something over the fire in a ladle. Maria could smell cinnamon hanging in the air and it made her mouth water. “What are you doing?” 

Varric looked over his shoulder and had the _audacity_ to wink at her. “You said you like your cider hot.” 

Her heart fluttered in her chest against her will and Maria settled her burden on the broad kitchen table. “ _You_ said it wasn’t a proper dwarven drink.” 

“And _you_ said we weren’t proper dwarves.” 

“It’s not a lie.” She pointed out. 

Varric deftly captured two mugs from the mantle. “You’re not wrong, Princess. Have a seat and you can tell me how I did.”

She hoisted herself up on top of the table, crossing her legs at the knee while Varric poured a measure of steaming liquid in each mug. He turned and presented one to her with a flourish and something oddly vulnerable and uncertain lingering in the crease by his smile. 

She hid her own sudden nerves by lifting the cup quickly to her lips, sniffing at it with far too much interest. The smell of fresh apples, spices, and the crisp tang of fall filled her nose. It reminded her of the rain drenched docks of Ostwick, her sister’s laugh echoing off wooden ceilings, the leaves bright orange and red on the trees by the Chantry. 

She sipped experimentally and let out a delighted hum at the first perfect taste. 

“Success?” Varric asked. 

Maria rolled her eyes. “Not bad for your first attempt.” 

A beat of silence that lasted a second too long. Then Varric spoke again. “Maybe I’ll get better with practice.” 

_Practice_. Which meant this could happen again. And _again_. And-

It couldn’t. It _shouldn’t_. 

There were too many unspoken secrets hanging in the air between them, too much baggage on her end, and she suspected an equal amount on his. She licked her lips, trying to shove down the bright burst of hope kindling to life in her chest. She spoke at the same time he started. 

“Maria, listen, I can’t say I ever thought I’d-” 

“Varric, there’s so much going on-” 

They both stuttered to an uncertain stop, looking at each other, the moment hanging on a taut thread. 

“Ladies first.” Varric said weakly. 

Maria laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not a lady.” 

Which was the main problem, wasn’t it? He was a Merchant Prince. She was a Carta Princess. The gap between them was too large to build a bridge across and always would be.

Varric took a deep breath, setting his own mug down and placing both his hands on the table, bracketing her hips. He looked deadly serious and Maria felt fear lick up her spine. She wanted to wail, to beg him not to do this, to not topple them over the edge into the abyss when they’d never know what was down there.

He opened his mouth at the same _exact_ time something about the size of a blighted bear stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at bleary blue eyes.

Keaton Hawke straightened to his full looming height, scratching at his beard. He swung his eyes between Maria and Varric, cataloguing their state of undress and the scant, heated space between their bodies. 

Varric hissed one damning word. “ _Fuck._ ”

Maria herself didn’t know whether to leap to her feet and hug the stupid human or launch her mug at his head. She settled for sighing instead. 

“Nice night for an evening.” Keaton’s beard twitched with the amusement in his voice. “How are you two? Pantless and _properly_ disheveled?” 

Varric shot Maria an apologetic look before turning an exasperated glare on Keaton. “Kitchen’s closed, Hawke.” 

“But something’s simmering, right?” Keaton asked wickedly. “Or has it already boiled over?” 

Varric groaned. “ _Hawke_.” 

Keaton threw his hands up. “Fine, fine. I know when I’m not wanted. I’ve just got _one_ question.” 

“No.” Varric said quickly. “No, you don’t.” 

Keaton ignored his friend completely, fixing his gaze on Maria and flexing his own bare chest and the thick, dark pelt of hair covering it. 

“Now that you’ve examined his up close, which is better?”

The tension fell away in a dizzying moment while Varric hung his head, shaking it with weary resignation. Maria leaned back on one palm, making a great show of examining Keaton’s displayed chest before smirking herself. 

“Blackwall’s.” 

The incredulous look both men shot her was worth the inevitable pouting later. 

“You’ve picked a cruel mistress, Varric.” Keaton shook his head, placing a thick hand over his heart. “ _Cruel_.” 

“What can I say?” Varric shrugged, capturing Maria’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “I like the chase.” 

A part of Maria thawed. It felt like a promise, somehow, and for a moment…

Well, for a moment, she believed someone may finally keep one for her. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can always be found doing smutty and dwarfy things over at [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/).


End file.
